Work Text:
It’s been a week since Wander has unofficially (officially) moved in. During the past few days, the young American has acquired their own clothes, slept on the air mattress, and helped with the shop more than anticipated.
The (now) caretakers of said young American have learned more about them. They’ve learned that the teenager has many interests, likes their eggs a certain way, and is more energetic than they let on.
Wander opens their bleary eyes, lamb and Taweret plushies squished into their side. They take notice of the sunlight peeking through the window, and the savory smell of eggs. Yawning, they rub the sleep away from their eyes.
The teenager sits up on the air mattress, moving to plant their feet on the hardwood floor. They walk into the bathroom, freshening up and changing out of the sleep shirt and pajama pants.
Walking out of the bathroom with minty breath and wearing a cream colored long sleeve with black jeans, they head over to the kitchen.
Jake turns around with two plates in his hands. He places the omelet onto the table in front of him. Leaning back onto the counter, he picks up his fork and starts munching on his scrambled eggs.
Sitting at the table, Wander picks up their fork. They look up at the New Yorker, quirking their eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, he grabs and places the ketchup bottle with force onto the table. The two have had this argument before, with the teenager’s strange liking to ketchup with omelets. The older of the two has fully given up and accepted the younger’s eating habits.
Finishing up breakfast, the two grab their necessities, slip on their shoes, and head out of the flat.
Unlocking the door to the shop, they flick on the lights and set their bags down in the break room. With Steven checking the cash register and Wander quickly restocking a few shelves and the lollipop stand, the young American turns the sign from “CLOSED” to “OPEN.”
Over the last week, the shop has slowly gained traction, new customers and regulars. As Wander finishes up with the old woman who buys sweets for her grandchildren, a teenager walks into the store with a smile.
The look on the teenager’s face quickly goes from cheerful to a look of confusion once they spot the other teen standing at the register.
The older of the two breaks the awkward silence first. “Who on God’s green Earth are you?” The younger behind the counter stares, mildly offended. Steven pops his head out of the break room door, ceasing the uncomfortable air.
“Oh, Calamity right? This is Wander.” The older Brit gestures to the American, the younger hesitantly waving, eyeing the other teenager. As Calamity is about to question how he already has an employee (and one their age at that), Steven quickly mouths “don’t ask.”
More awkward silence passes before Wander rolls their eyes and asks, “Did you need anything?” The younger Brit snaps out of it, eyes falling back onto the American, then to the shop owner.
“Yeah, uh, I was wondering if I could hang out here a bit?” They ask hopefully. Before anyone else could protest, Steven quickly reassures them that they are welcome in the store any time. He invites them to sit in the break room, the young Brit accepting.
Steven takes over the register, standing behind the counter. With nothing to do, Wander wanders into the break room, plopping themselves onto the seat in front of Calamity.
Crossing their legs, they start. “Any reason why you wanted to stay here?” The American asks, picking at a loose strand on their sleeve.
The Brit looks up from their phone, staring at the person across from them. Tucking their phone into their pocket, they answer, “My mum was supposed to pick me up across the street a while ago, but she messaged me saying she couldn’t pick me up because of work. You?”
Scanning the brunette’s face, they deem Calamity trustworthy. Sitting up in their chair, “I have no recollection of showing up in London, so Steven let me stay with him. As long as I work here, I’m allowed to stay.” The teenage Brit hums in acknowledgement, understanding.
Silent moments pass by, the two teenagers blank on topics. Just when one is about to cough awkwardly, the other starts. “So, do you like Star Wars?”
The teenagers are deep in conversation, happily rambling about Anakin and Padmé when Steven walks into the break room, pausing. The shop owner stares at the two blankly. Silence encompasses the room once they realize the older Brit has finally joined them.
Steven coughs awkwardly, walking over to his bag. He opens it, pulling out two brown paper bags. He places one of the paper bags down in front of Wander. “It’s lunch time.” He states.
Wander nods at Steven, opening the paper bag and pulling out a sandwich, a bag of crisps, and a bottle of water. The American looks down at the sandwich, and proceeds to take one half of the lunch item, offering it to Calamity.
The younger Brit looks down at the food, taking it reluctantly. The three of them munch away in silence, no one knowing what to say. Steven awkwardly coughs, “So, Calamity, how have you been?”
Calamity stares in silence. “Well, uhm, I just finished a few tests. Stopped by here while I wait for my mum to get off of work,” they mumble, going back to take a bite of the sandwich.
More questions are asked, and slowly but surely, the tension in the room is loosened up. Eventually, lunch time ends and Calamity gets a message that their mother is there to pick them up. They bid their goodbyes, and both Steven and Wander go back to work.
After another grueling few hours of getting through conversations such as “Do you have any of these sweets in stock?” “Ma’am, those were discontinued in 2010,” or “No, you cannot return those, sir, you already ate half the bag,” it was time to lock up and go home.
Steven looks over at the American teenager. “You ready to go?” He asks while gathering up his belongings. Wander nods, exhausted.
Walking through the front door, Wander books it to the nearest chair and collapses down, resting their head into their hands. They groan, ready to finish the night.
With Steven hanging up his coat, the teenager stands up and starts pacing. “Y’know, the only person who didn’t give me a mind-numbing headache today was that one person. What was their name, Clarity?”
“No, their name is-”
“Charity! Wait, no,”
“Actually, it’s-”
“Capacity! No, that doesn’t make sense-”
“Wander!”
“Nope, that’s my name-”
Wander’s words muffle once a hand is clamped over their mouth. Making a noise of disgust, the older retracts his hand, wiping it on his jeans. “Did you just lick me?”
Grinning, the teenager replies, “For you Marc, that was well deserved.” They walk towards the fridge, picking out a juice box. They open the straw and stab it into the box. Taking a sip, their eyes widen.
Raising his eyebrow, “What? Is the juice better?” Marc questions, sitting down into a chair.
Shaking their head, the teenager responds, “Calamity! That’s their name! Oh, and no, it’s still shit.” They shrug, walking over to their air mattress, leaving the older American speechless.
Rubbing his growing headache (that may not have been induced by the younger), Marc goes to try and enjoy the rest of his night.
Bonus:
Laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Calamity thinks back to the sweet shop, smiling fondly.
Rolling over to their side, they have one last thought before dozing off to sleep.
I’m going to have so much candy by the end of the week.